Frostbite
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Dean has never had a problem ignoring orders and/or speed limits in order to take care of his Sammy; a fact which is all but proven the moment he gets a phone call from his hurting little brother.


I noticed it immediately, probably before Sam even knew he was doing it. The kid at my side was leaning back in his seat, staring out the passenger side window, with his shaggy brown hair covering his eyes; none of which was new. What caught my immediate attention was not how he was sitting or where his gaze was being directed, but rather what my little brother was doing with his hands. Sam was rubbing his hands together, as one would if they were applying lotion and even though Sam was a total pansy, he wasn't much for hand cream; no hunter was, soft hands were irrelevant because they always ended up covered in callouses, not to mention that oily hands would make it very difficult to properly grip a weapon.

I sent another side-long glance in Sam's direction and the second I saw the young man's continued hand motions I recalled instantly the purpose of the action and how many times I had witnessed it before. Sam wasn't applying imaginary hand-lotion; he was trying to warm his damn hands!

The moment the realization hit me that familiar anger began to rise, seeping its way through my body, as though it was in my blood. My grip on the steering wheel tightened, the only appropriate way I could think of to try and release some of that flowing fury. I sent another look over to my kid brother and watched momentarily as Sam rubbed his hands more vigorously, unconsciously attempting to generate some heat into the frozen limbs; the site caused my anger to flare and suddenly the death grip on the steering wheel wasn't enough and I began to clench my teeth as I was lured into recalling an unfavourable, but unforgettable memory.

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_It happened almost a decade ago, back when Sam was only 14 years of age. He was as scrawny as ever, the growth spurt he hit making him a little taller, but even scrawnier. No matter how hard I tried I felt as though I could never get quite enough meat on the kid's bones, probably because this kid was such a wimpy eater. When your little brother would rather spend all his time with his face in a book, getting him to eat any food at all was practically a chore. I found myself doing all I could just to keep enough fat on my little brother to keep it so that his ribs didn't stick out; it didn't help that we never seemed to have enough money to buy anything that didn't come out of a can and Sam was far too picky for his own good, not that I could blame the kid, I was pretty sure I would be perfectly happy to never again lay eyes on another can of spaghettios. _

_I was really hoping that Sam would remember to eat this week, as his older brother would not be there to force feed him. Dad and I were heading out on a hunt, about 3 hours away from where Sam was going to be. Dad was originally going to bring the 14 year old along, but there was no school around where the hunt was and Sam, as predictable as usual, had insisted he be enrolled in school. This was not the first time Sam had stayed in a town on his own for a period of time, but that didn't make me any more comfortable with it. _

_I was having to head to the hunt early, Dad insisting that I hone in on my research skills and get a head start on the case while he stays behind to get Sam enrolled in school. We found a hotel in the town within walking distance of the high school and checked in; after pulling all Sam's stuff out of the Impala and getting him situated in the motel room, I had run out of excuses to keep from heading out. I managed to get my little brother to pull his nose out of a book long enough to say goodbye. _

_ "Sammy, don't forget to eat some food while I'm gone, if you get any skinnier people are going to be able to see right through you." _

_ "Don't worry Dean, you eat enough for the both of us." Sam replied, the smile on his face displaying the dimples that always made him look years younger than he was. _

_ "Nice one Bitch. Now, don't stay up reading all night and make sure you get your ass to school on time, and remember, anything you need just…" _

_ "Give you a call, ya, I know, we've been through this before. I'll be fine, don't worry about it…Jerk." Sam finished, walking up to me and nudging me playfully with his arm._

_Years ago this would be the moment where I found myself with an armful of little brother. Sammy used to always wrap his little arms around me before I went anywhere, even if it was just to school; but things were changing, Sam was getting older and while he was still very much the baby of the family, he was no longer the clingy little bugger that he used to be. If I were being entirely honest I would admit that I sort of missed the hugs I used to receive on an almost regular basis from my little brother, but I would never confess such an outrageously girly thought aloud._

_ "Alright, see you around Sammy." I said as I messed up the young teen's mop of already unruly hair. _

_ "It's Sam." The younger Winchester mumbled as he stepped from my reach and attempted to fix the mess I had made of his head, but as I headed to the door he called out. "Dean." At the sound of my name I turned around, never able to help the instant response I always had to the little squirt and waited patiently for Sammy to gather his words. "Just, uhh, be safe, alright? And don't forget to call if you're going to be longer than a week. Okay?" Sam said quietly, allowing his bangs to fully cover his eyes. _

_ "Ya Sammy, you know I will." I replied, tone soft and reassuring, maintaining a smile on my face until the younger man finally looked up to see it. When I was moderately sure that I had done as much as I could to ease my little brother's fears, I exited the room, trying hard to mentally reassure myself that Sammy would be alright on his own. _

_Stepping outside I saw my dad transferring the laptop from his truck into the Impala, so that I could use it to do research once I arrived at the next town. Without even looking in my direction my father began to recite his list of orders for me to follow._

_ "You better get going, I want you there before dark to check out the scene and then you should have time to talk to some of the witnesses before getting a room and starting on the research. No cutting corners on the research Dean, it has been mediocre at best; that's another reason I wanted Sam here, you won't be able to get him to do all your work this time. I should be in town by the time you're finished your training tomorrow morning and I want you to be able to give me the full run down. Got it?" _

"_Yup." I confirmed, straightening out the different weapons my dad had simply tossed into the back of my baby. _

"_Pardon?" John asked, with an edge to his voice. _

"_Yes sir." I corrected myself, firmly closing the trunk of the Impala. John nodded his approval as he turned to head into the motel room, only stopping to look back at me when I called his name. _

"_Dad?" _

"_Ya Dean?" _

"_You're going to enroll Sammy in school this afternoon right?" At my dad's nod I continued, "And make sure you get him enough groceries for the week? He really needs some fat on those bones…" _

"_He doesn't need fat, the boy needs some muscle" John corrected. _

"_Ya well, either way he is going to need at least a week's worth of food, and something more than soup." I declared, speading up my speaking as I noticed dad was about to protest, no doubt in an attempt to point out the nutritional value of soup and the fact that he is not 'made of money'. _

"_And Dad, you have to get him a new coat and mitts." _

_This was something that had been nagging at me since we entered Michigan, it was January, no snow, but very cold. Almost the moment we had entered the state we had dug out the winter gear, mine and Dad's jackets being thick enough for the cold, but Sam's was light, hardly warm enough to be considered a fall jacket, let alone winter. Due to Sam's recent growth spurt, his winter jacket from the previous year was far too short and his gloves much too small. _

"_The jacket he's got is pathetic Dad, he was shivering all the way here." I explained. _

"_Well I don't know how, cause don't think I didn't notice that you had that boy dressed in almost every piece of clothing he owns. I could see from the rear-view mirror of my truck that you had the kid in at least 4 different layers." _

"_Ya, that's cause it's friggin cold and he doesn't have a proper jacket. Seriously Dad, you need to get him a decent winter coat. I am not here to drive him to and from school and he's got at least a 20 minute walk both ways, that plus all the training you want him to do, he is going to be out in the cold weather an aweful lot and he needs a warm coat and gloves." I insisted._

"_Dean, Sam will be fine, stop worrying." John assured nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. _

"_I have to worry about this, because I don't want Sammy to freeze to death and I know that he won't tell you what he needs and you won't remember, so I have to remind you, now just promise me that you'll get him a thick coat and some warm gloves." I rushed, almost getting it all out in one breath, nervous over what my dad's response would be and trying desperately to not sound too motherly. There was a pause of tense silence during which I had to force myself to maintain eye-contact with my father when I desperately wanted to look away. I held my stance, re-affirming the fact that I was not backing down, that I was confident in my requests, and this was a matter on which I was very willing to argue, if need be. _

_John was staring at me accusingly, but I remained steady, my face calm, just waiting for the condemnation I was sure to receive from my father. Finally John took a deep breath, letting it out with a put-upon sigh._

"_Alright Dean, though I don't see why you think you need to tell me what my own child needs, I will make sure to get Sam a better coat." _

"_And gloves?" I knew that I was pushing it, but this was not an issue on which I was willing to compromise, even if it meant attracting the wrath of the great John Winchester. My dad's eyebrows rose practically to his hair line as he sucked in another deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it harshly; this sort of breathing had generally been a technique dad had always used to calm himself, often making an appearance whenever he was having a discussion with Sam. _

"_And gloves." John relented, in a tone declaring that he was not at all content about the conversation that was taking place. Nodding my head, pretending that I hadn't been holding my breath over my dad's possible reaction, I opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. _

_By the time I looked back up through the windshield, after starting the car, I saw my father's back as the older man entered the motel room; and just as I started to pull out of the parking spot I saw Sammy's face at the window as the young teen peaked around the curtain. We made eye-contact immediately, I tried not to grimace at the site of such intense fear and worry lying in my little brother's eyes, a look I had seen almost every time I left Sam behind. I threw a confident smile my brother's way, hoping that it would accurately disguise my current distress as well as ease my baby brother's worry. Sam gave me a small smirk, but that veil of fright and concern never lifted from his eyes. I kept the content look on my face until I had pulled out of the motel parking lot and was headed onto the highway, then and only then did I allow the mask to slide off and reveal the uncertainty lying beneath. _

_###########################################################_

_I had done everything my dad asked and was on my last lap around the motel by the time my father arrived in town the next morning. _

"_Did you get him a coat and mitts?" Was the first thing that came out of my mouth the moment I saw my father emerge from his pick-up truck. He gave me an exasperated look as he reached back in the cab to pull out his duffle. _

"_Sam is fine Dean." He stated as he waited for me to direct him towards the room. _

"_So you got him…" _

"_He has everything he needs Dean." Dad interrupted. "Sam will be fine. You need to learn to focus less on your brother and more on the job."_

"_I know, I know you say that all the time." I mumbled, leading the way to the room I checked into the previous night. _

"_I tell you it all the time, because you can't seem to get it through your head. Now enough about your brother, I need you to give me the rundown on this case." My father grouched as he pushed past me after I unlocked the door to the room. _

_I closed the door quickly behind me as I entered, trying to keep the cold air outside and being reminded again how chilly it was and how Sam better have gotten a new jacket. I decided to not push the matter though, my dad was right, I need to focus on the job, the better I do the job, the better I can protect Sammy and the sooner I can get back to him; so I let the matter drop, simply trusting that my father new how to take care of his kids. In an attempt to let go of the constant nagging concern I had for my little brother, I started filling my dad in on everything I had managed to find out about the hunt. _

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_A week later we had made a whole lot of headway on the case and were hoping to be able to wrap it up in the next couple of days. I had called Sam yesterday to tell him we were going to be a few more days. He had sounded off, I still couldn't put my finger on why, but the conversation had left me extremely unsettled and I had yet to shake it. Even now as I was tracking in the woods with my dad, I couldn't get my mind off Sam and was constantly thinking about all the different things that could be the matter. _

_Bullies always being the go-to assumption, Sam had always been far too small for his age, that and being the new kid always made my baby brother the number one target for anyone bigger and meaner than him, which, these days, consisted of just about everybody. The only reason I had ever regretted leaving high school was that I wouldn't be there to defend the kid, keep him from being shoved into walls and attacked with both words and fists._

_I had given my brother the third degree, practically interrogating him over the phone, but the little shit hadn't budged, insisting that he was "fine" and begging me to stop pestering him already. _

"_Dean! Focus!" I was pulled out of my thoughts by my father's harsh demand, realizing I had stopped moving and was now much farther behind Dad then I had been when they started out. I quickened my steps, avoiding the older man's gaze as I got closer. Then my phone went off, I knew better than to ever have it on a ringer setting, but the vibrating was not completely silent either. I heard it and felt it immediately, unfortunately my dad heard it just as quickly, whether due to his keen sense of hearing or the noise was actually that loud, I wasn't sure. I felt my father's eyes burning in to my skull as I dug out my phone, flipping it open the moment I glimpsed at the call I.D. _

"_Sammy?" My voice drenched in concern, I knew something was wrong, because I had just called Sam yesterday with a promise that I would call again soon, so there is no way he would call me first unless something was wrong, seriously wrong. I waited a second, only hearing stuttered breathing on the other end of the line, which seemed to validate my concern almost immediately. _

"_Sammy? What is it? What's wrong?" I said, almost harshly, demanding to know what had hurt my little brother and already thinking of ways to make it pay, whoever or whatever it is. _

"_Dean." It wasn't a question, or a statement, more like a plea that came out sounding suspiciously like a sob; and that was all it took for me to turn on my heels and start booking my way back towards the direction I had come, back to the Impala. The moment I turned I heard my father's voice, questioning my actions, but I drowned it out, focussing solely on interpreting the unsteady breathing coming from my cell. _

"_Ya kiddo, I'm right here. Now I need you to tell me what's wrong, can you do that?" I was treating him like a child I knew, and the fact that he didn't jump on me for it told me exactly how distressed Sam really was. _

"_Dean." That was definitely a sob, I sped up, practically jogging now, not knowing if my father was following behind me and not taking the time to find out. _

"_It's me Sammy, I'm right here and I am going to fix everything, but first I need you to tell me what happened, I need you to do that for me little bro, okay? Will you do that for me Sammy? Please?" I was almost begging now, knowing that orders and demands never worked with Sam, something my dad hadn't quite figured out, but that my little brother was a sucker for helping others; so if I made it so that answering my question would be helping me, I knew that he would do it. I didn't like taking advantage of Sam's weakness for helping people, myself in particular, and it was something I very rarely did, but this was a moment where I knew it was what I would have to do to get him to talk. _

"_My hands, Dean." Sam whispered, I could tell by the quiver in his voice that he was trying not to cry, but I could almost see the tears running down his face as he bit his lower lip, something he always did to try and stop from crying. _

"_Your hands? What about your hands Sammy?" I questioned, my voice level, trying to figure out exactly what it is that would be wrong with my baby brother's hands. _

"_They're re-really cold Dean." I couldn't help but realize that Sam was saying my name every time he spoke and that every time it came out like a sob, a desperate plea, meant to break my heart in half. _

"_Cold? Warm them up then." I didn't understand what the issue was. _

"_I ca-can't Dean."_

"_Run them under some warm water."_

"_I di-did, it hurt wo-worse, it burned and n-now…" Sam faded out, as though someone used a remote to turn the volume down as he spoke. _

"_What about now? What's happening now Sammy?" I asked, getting desperate to understand why my baby brother was in such distress. _

"_My…my hands are …the-they're changing col-colour Dean." Sam choked out. _

"_Colours? What do you mean Sam? What colours?" I questioned in confusion. _

"_They're…they're turning bla-black Dee." There it was, I knew it was coming if I didn't diffuse the situation, "Dee" the child in Sam always came out when he was scared or hurt and Dee was what he had called me almost until he turned 10 where it dissipated, but it was name that returned when the child in Sam came out; and whenever he said it that way, like it was the only thing he was holding on to, it tore me to pieces. _

"_Hey Sammy, it's going to be alright, you're going to be fine. I need you tell me why your hands are black, are they bruised Sam? Did someone hurt them?" I could see the Impala, my baby sitting there beautifully under the night sky, waiting patiently for me to come back to her and man did I need her more than ever right now. _

"_No, they're co-cold Dee…really, really cold an-and they hurt. Dean they hurt s-so much." I felt my eyes welling up and quickly wiped at the moisture, there was no time for my tears, I needed to focus on Sam. _

"_Alright buddy, it's alright, just try to keep them as warm as you can, I'm on my way alright?" I reassured as I ripped the door open, knowing my baby would understand the harsh treatment, because it was for Sam. _

"_NO! Don't hang up! Don't leave me Dean!" I was shocked by the volume of my brother's voice, having struggled to hear what he was saying this entire conversation, his voice practically a whisper the entire time, that the sudden volume change had me startled. Not to mention the shock at what my brother had said, so desperate for me to stay on the phone, he had allowed himself to actually believe that I would just hang up on him. _

"_Hey Sam, Sammy! I'm not going anywhere alright?! I am on my way to you right now, we'll talk until I get there, okay?" I said, calming my little brother, pulling him back from panic. _

"_Okay Dean" He replied, back to the whispery tone. As I started the car I heard the passenger door open and felt the car dip as my dad dropped into the seat, roughly slamming the door closed and giving me a hard look, a look which I did not return or acknowledge. I also did not answer my father's demanding questions, understanding his frustration, but not having time to pay heed to his orders. _

"_Where are you Sam, are you in the room?" I questioned, needing to keep my little brother calm as well as desperately trying to understand his situation. _

"_Ya" Came the quite reply, followed by a hitch of the breath. _

"_Okay, good boy Sam. Now can you tell me if anything else is wrong? Does anything else hurt?" _

"_I'm j-just cold." Sam stuttered. _

"_Just your hands?" _

"_No…every-everywhere is cold Dee" At the teen's response I gripped the wheel tighter, feeling my muscles tense with fear. _

"_Did you try having a warm shower?" I asked lamely. _

"_I tried… I couldn't…it hur-hurt my hands Dean, I…I couldn't t-turn the nob…" It was then that I realized Sam's voice was always slightly muffled, I thought it had just been because he was trying not to cry, but I realized it was also because Sam had the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear and he was stuttering. He couldn't even hold the phone, his hands were so cold that the kid couldn't get them to work enough to hold the phone or turn the tap and if I hadn't been number one on his speed dial I am wondering if he would have been able to call me at all. This wasn't good, cold, painful, black hands meant frostbite and if more than just his hands are cold, that could mean there is frostbite somewhere else on his body, all that plus the chattering of teeth I could hear on the other side, it could mean hypothermia, it could mean death. I shuddered and pushed my baby to speed up._

"_Okay Sammy, I understand, but I need you to get warm." The moment I said that I could sense the man on my right stiffen and the guilt that began to flow off of my father was almost tangible. My suspicions were confirmed immediately and the anger began to overwhelm the fear that had taken residence in my gut. _

"_I'm tr-trying Dee, I'm under all the blank-blankets…but I'm still c-cold." Sam stammered that as though he had let me down, as though he felt like a failure for being unable to gain control of his body temperature, and that only fueled the fire that was rising through my body. "And I-I tried to do… to do the training Dad want- wanted me to, I did Dean, I tr-tried really hard…but I j-just got s-so cold…and it hurt… and…" _

"_Stop it Sam!" I commanded. "Don't worry about it, you did great, you're doing great and none of this is your fault! Okay little brother? You go that?" _

"_O-Okay Dean." I could tell that Sam was just being compliant, he wasn't actually convinced that what I said was true, but I would settle for compliancy right now. When I know that he is okay I will make sure he understands that none of this is his fault, but right now I just needed him to be okay. I heard a gasp from the other end. _

"_What Sam, what is it?" I couldn't hide the urgency in my voice and apparently my father sensed it because I could feel his hands on the phone, trying to pull it from my ear, no doubt getting impatient to find out exactly what was going on. I turned my eyes from the road long enough to send a menacing glare to my father and hunched my body further to the left, making it clear that he is not getting the phone. _

"_Dean…I thi-think my phone is dy-dying." Sam said, a twinge of desperation in the statement. _

"_Don't you have the charger?" I asked. _

"_Ya-yes… but I can't plu-plug the phone in… my…my hands…they…I…" My little brother was stuttering trying to find a way to explain to me that his hands wouldn't cooperate long enough for him to be able to plug in his cell phone…this entire situation was beyond wrong. My baby brother should never be in that kind of pain, he should never be so physically damaged that he can't even adjust a shower nob or charge a phone. I had failed, I knew that then, I am supposed to protect him, keep him safe; but here I am, not with him and soon not even able to talk to him, leaving him alone, injured and vulnerable. I wanted to be sick. "Dean, it…it's dying, th-the battery is re-really low, it's going to shu-shut off s-soon." My brother stated, dread coding his words. _

"_Sammy, it's fine, okay? What about the motel phone? Can you call me on that?" I asked, desperate for a solution, knowing I was still 2 hours away as I pushed the gas pedal even closer to the floor in an attempt to define the laws of time. _

"_I tri-tried Dee, I can't…can't dial, the b- buttons are s-small and I ca-can't hold it a-and…" _

"_That's okay Sam, it's alright, it isn't your fault okay?"_

"_M'kay Dean" Sam muttered, I could almost see him biting his lip, trying to stop it from quivering as moisture filled up his eyes. That image, though imagined, tore at my very soul and had me cursing the distance between us. _

"_We will just keep talking until your phone dies, and when it does Sam, don't worry about it, because I am on my way. When it happens I want you to just keep cuddled up in the blankets and do anything else you can think of to keep warm and keep your hands warm. You are going to be okay and I am going to be there soon. Okay Sammy?" I asked, as calmly as my body could manage at this point. _

"_O-Okay D-Dean, just hurry, al-alright?" He sounded so much younger than 14, and I was forced to blink the moisture from my eyes, causing a single tear to run unobstructed down my face. _

"_Ya buddy, I'm going as fast as I can." I replied quietly, keeping the agony I was feeling out of my tone. There was silence for a little while, during which I had horror scenes playing in my head, all the different ways this could end up bad for Sammy were assaulting my mind. _

"_Dean?" Sam whispered quietly. _

"_What is it Sammy?" I responded, willing to do anything to help the kid._

" _What if I can't…" The sound of a dial tone interrupted my baby brother's question and I was left listening to that incessant beeping until I finally released my death grip on the phone, dropping it into my pocket and placing both hands on the steering wheel. There was silence, I could feel my dad's eyes on me, and I knew that he would have to be blind not to see the complete fury written all over my body. _

"_Dean –" _

"_Don't Dad, just don't. There is absolutely nothing you could say that would excuse what you've done." I bit out, trying to maintain some sort of calm in my reaction. _

"_What I've done? I haven't done anything!" He defended. _

"_Exactly, you didn't do anything! I practically begged you to buy that kid a bloody winter coat and you didn't even do that." I lost my battle at calm about half way through my response, the picture of my shivering cold hurting baby brother invading my mind. _

"_I didn't have time to go clothes shopping Dean, but I left Sam some money and told him to get his own coat." _

"_What about gloves, did you leave him money for that?" _

"_I left him enough." _

"_How much?" I knew I was making my dad angry, though I hadn't looked over at him once, I could tell by the way my father's answers were getting louder the longer this conversation went on. There was silence, silence that told me everything I needed to know, but I still wanted to hear the confirmation come right from my dad's mouth. _

"_20 bucks." It was said assertively, as though my father actually believed that he hadn't screwed up. _

"_20 bucks! You can't get a winter coat for $20! And you sure as hell can't get a coat and gloves with it!" I declared, trying get through the old man's thick head. _

"_Well he will have to make it work, I'm not made of money you know Dean." And there it was, the go-to defense John used every single time they went without basic necessities. _

"_Ya, you keep saying that, but if you had enough to go for a few beers last night then you sure as hell should have had enough to buy your own kid a f'n coat!" I seethed, no longer pulling any punches, astounded that this man could make up excuses for letting his youngest son down in such a crucial way. _

"_I didn't see you wining when you were drinking those beers last night Dean. And Sam needs to learn how to make do, you can't be spoon feeding him all the time." _

"_How is he supposed to make do? This isn't a luxury he can learn to let go of, it's clothing he needs to stay warm so he doesn't freeze to death, what kind of solution do you expect him to come up with when you don't leave him enough my money to get the things he __**needs**__!?" I lost it, turning for the first time to glare incredulously at my father. _

"_He finds what he can with the money I gave him." _

"_He can't find a coat that is going to keep him warm for $20! There was no thrift shop in that godforsaken town, where is he supposed to find a winter jacket for that pathetic amount of cash?" I asked in disbelief. _

"_Well if he doesn't have enough he will have to make some of his own money, I can't always be around to provide the kid's every need. You've found work to make extra money." _

_I knew what my dad was referring to, the last few years whenever we were staying in the same location for more than a couple weeks I would find some odd work, just small temporary jobs that provided some extra cash. Some extra cash I would use to send Sammy on the field trip to the museum with the rest of his class, or to make sure that we got to eat more than toast while dad was away for weeks at a time. I did it because I had to, because I was tired of never having enough, I was tired of watching my baby brother go without, but my dad failed to see the difference in mine and Sam's situation. _

"_I'm older Dad! I didn't start getting jobs until I turned 16! No one is going to hire a little 14 year old kid who's still in school! Besides, God knows the kid wouldn't be able to make time for a job between school and all the training you have him doing!" My exasperation level had hit a maximum. I knew my father could be unreasonable, hard-headed, and unwilling to negotiate, but his blatant refusal to accept any responsibility at all had me completely baffled. I was starting to see why Sam and he were butting heads so much lately._

_I was met with silence, I knew that meant next to nothing, it didn't mean I had won and it didn't mean my father had seen the light, it just meant that he could no longer maintain the level of calm he had so far been able to handle and he was now calming himself down, which I could tell by his breathing pattern. I let it die, knowing that no progress was being made and that next time that man opens his mouth I may be forced to throttle him. _

_The rest of the drive was made in silence, both of us staring out the front windshield, by the time we made it to town the gas pedal under my foot was practically at the floor and my baby was being pushed to go faster than I ever thought she could. I pulled to a stop in front of the Sam's motel and I dived out of the car, almost losing my footing on my sprint to the room door. _

"_Sam!" I called knocking firmly on the wooden door, hard enough to get his attention but not to scare him; that idea was thrown out the window the next second when John started pounding on the door, hard enough to splinter it. I jumped, startled by the force of my dad's knocking, recovering quickly and putting a hand out to stop the older man._

"_Dad, cut it out, that's not helping and all you're going to do is draw attention." I said, looking around to make sure none of the other room doors had opened. _

"_Sam open up!" John bellowed, shrugging me off and pounding on the door again. I went to try the doorknob, knowing it would probably be locked but hoping it wasn't, considering that making a scene would be unavoidable if I was forced to break the door down. To my surprise the door was unlocked and I pushed it open, shocking my dad who was about to start in on another round of merciless pounding. He pulled out his gun instead, an action which I followed, as we slowly entered the room, scanning it for danger. Scanning the room I realized the beds were empty, which put me on high alert because that had been exactly where I expected to spot my little brother. I did realize, however, that both beds were missing blankets. As I proceeded to rake over the room with my eyes I spotted a bundle of blanket on the kitchen floor, I was moving across the room before my mind had even registered exactly what it was I was seeing. _

_By the time I reached the tiny nook known as a motel kitchen I noticed the shaggy brown hair that was peeking out of the lump of blankets piled on the floor in front of the oven door. I dropped to my knees immediately, lifting off layer after layer until I uncovered the thin, lanky body that had been hiding underneath. I wanted desperately to just take that small kid in my arms and make him all better, but I knew better, I had been trained better. I knew before finding a solution I must assess the problem, which meant given Sam a thorough once over before lifting him in to my arms and blowing this popsicle stand. _

"_Sammy." I said quietly, but louder than a whisper, I felt my father at my back and silently begged him to not do anything to startle the little boy curled up on the floor. Thankfully the older man seemed to be alright with taking my lead for the moment, because he squatted down quietly and gently placed his large hand on top of his youngest son's head. "Sam." I tried again, a little louder this time. I watched as his head turned towards the direction of my voice and I brushed those too-long bangs out of his face to see two hazy eyes staring up at me. "There you are little brother, how you doing buddy?" I asked, running my thumb across Sam's cold cheekbones, itching to get a look at my brother's hands, but still waiting for a verbal reaction from the teen curled up on the floor. _

"_Dee?" It came out quieter than a whisper, with a gravely edge to it, a weaker tone then Dean had heard on the phone hours earlier, _

"_The one and only lil'brother, now you going to let me take a look atchya or you going to lie on this hard floor all night?" I said, a light air in my voice, contradicting entirely the heavy weight of the present situation. _

"_M'hands Dee." Sam gasped, eyes going wide as the young teen tensed up. _

"_I know kiddo, you going to let me take a look at them?" I asked, keeping one hand cupping my little brother's face as I ran the other one down Sam's shoulders, feeling his frigid skin through my brother's sweater. Once I got to the young boy's elbow he tensed up even tighter, pulling his hands even closer into his chest. _

"_Sam, show us your hands now son." The youngest Winchester flinched at the command, whether due to the volume of it, or that the boy hadn't known our father was in the room to give it. Typical Sam gave no response to the command other than the flinch, which relieved me for some reason, because there was nothing more normal than Sam completely disregarding a John Winchester order. I smirked and leaned in even closer towards my little brother, stopping about an inch from his face and began to speak quietly to the injured boy. _

"_Sammy I'm going to fix it okay? But I need to see what it is that I need to fix, so can you please show me your hands?" I waited a minute, not getting any movement from my baby brother, I again appealed to his weakness of helping others. "Sammy I need you to trust me? Do you trust me kiddo?" It took less than a second for me to receive the small nod I knew was going to arrive. "And you know that I would never do anything to hurt you?" Again there was a nod. "Good, now I need you to please show me your hands, please Sammy." And then came the final words I knew would seal the deal. "For me kiddo?" I didn't have to wait long until Sam slowly allowed his arms to begin to fall away from his chest, unresisting when I gently gripped his forearms, bringing them out into view. "That's it little man, you're doing great." I continued my mantra of quiet encouragement as I guided Sam's arms onto my lap. His hands were covered in dish cloths; I slowly began to unwind the towel on his right hand. Sam unleashed a whimper, after which my father began to gently card his fingers through his young son's hair, trying to calm the kid. I looked up from what I was doing briefly, to observe the scene playing out in front of me, impressed with my father's attempt at comforting and wondering if I would ever witness that side of him again. _

_#######################################################_

_I almost bit through my lip trying to prevent form unleashing the gasp that was caught in my throat the moment I could finally see my little brother's hand. It was discoloured, completely grey except for the tips of his fingers and edges of his palm where green and black spots were covering Sam's skin. I gently placed the tips of my fingers on Sammy's palm, it was cold to the touch, like the rest of him, but it was also dry and cracking, even bleeding in some spots. _

"_Damn!" I looked up hearing my dad curse under his breath. He was holding Sam's other damaged hand gently in his big palm, examining it closely as he slowly turned it over, eliciting a small cry from the young teen. My father met my eyes, and for one brief extremely rare moment I witnessed the sheer terror and guilt reigning in his look. "Sam, do you hurt anywhere else?" _

"_No" My brother responded, so quietly dad was unable to hear it, he looked at me for an answer and I shook my head to indicate what Sam had said._

"_Good, that's good." Dad responded with a solemn nod of his head. _

"_But…" Sam began, going quiet before he completed his thought. _

"_What Sammy, what is it?" I asked, bringing his chin up so I could see in his eyes, careful not to disturb the discoloured appendage I had resting in my lap. _

"_I'm really cold." Sam whispered, his eyes gathering moisture as he looked at me pleadingly. I was about to reassure him, saying that he would be alright and we would have him warmed up in no time, but my dad spoke before I could. _

"_How cold son?" He asked. Sam squinted at the question, looking to be not entirely sure what he was meant to say. "Sam, how cold are you?" Dad repeated, a little rougher this time. _

"_Really, really cold…" Sam whispered, his gaze remaining on my face as our father shifted around resting a hand on Sam's forehead for a moment before moving it under the teen's layers of clothing to place it on his stomach. _

"_He's not shivering" My dad mumbled, moving his hand further under Sam's shirt, up to his ribs. _

"_What?" I asked in complete confusion, but not breaking eye contact with my young brother, refusing to deny him the only comfort I could give him at the time. _

"_He's freezing, his skin is frigid, but he's not shivering, he should be shivering. When he was on the phone with you was he shivering?" _

"_Umm, ya I think so, he kept stuttering and his breathing was really broken up." I said, racking my brain to recall whether that could have been from Sam being cold or crying. "If he's not shivering anymore doesn't that mean…" I trialed off, refusing to say the word as not to scare Sam, but knowing my father knew what I was getting at. Shivering was the body's way of trying to warm itself up, so if someone is cold enough to need warming up, but not shivering, that wasn't good. Sam was becoming hypothermic, if he wasn't there already. _

_Without a second thought, or even a glance in my dad's direction, I rolled my brother onto his back and began wrapping Sammy back up in the blankets he had previously been buried in. I secured his hands gently against his chest, unable to block out the soft cries that escaped from my baby brother's throat as I did so, and then I lifted him into my arms, pulling him close to my chest and heading for the door. The moment I stepped out into the chilly night air Sam flinched violently in my arms, releasing a sob, causing me to pull him impossible closer to my body. My dad was at the Impala seconds after, pulling open the passenger door before running over to get into the driver's seat. I slid into the car, careful not jostle Sam too much and before I could even close the car door my dad was ripping out of the parking lot. The sounds the tires made were not pretty, but I found myself completely unconcerned, don't get me wrong the Impala is my baby, but Sammy comes first, before anything or anyone. _

_As my dad drove frantically back towards the highway, knowing that the nearest hospital was almost two towns over, I did as much as I could for Sam. I took off my jacket, draping it over his legs, then I pulled open my flannel button up and pulled my teeshirt up, tucking it under my chin, leaving my chest completely bare. I did the same with Sam's back, pulling his layers up as far as I could without having to pull them over his head. When I could get as much of Sam's back uncovered as possible, I quickly pulled him against my chest, skin to skin. The touch was frigid, his cold skin invading my warmth and I prayed that my heat would invade his cold in the same way, and then I pulled the blankets around both of us, trapping the warmth underneath. I knew body heat was more effective when you were chest to chest, but I did not want to cause Sam's fragile hands anymore pain, so this would have to work until we arrived at the hospital. _

_###########################################################_

_By the time the Impala's tires came to an abrupt screeching stop in front of the hospital doors, I was shivering and Sam was barely coherent. My dad raced around the car, opening the door and went to pull Sammy from my arms, but I wouldn't allow it. I ignored his reach and lifted my brother out of car as gently as possible and raced through the hospital doors. _

_Everything was a blur after that, I remember very little. I do recall hearing my dad demand help, and then people were pulling Sammy from my arms, only allowing myself to let go when my father told me that I couldn't do any more to help him, that I needed to allow the doctors to handle it. _

_I remember my dad having to hold me back when Sammy was wheeled away on a stretcher, and then there was waiting. It felt like it went on for years, to this day I can't recall exactly how long I paced in that overcrowded waiting room until someone finally called out "Family of Samuel Thompson." I didn't blink at the new last name, was used to having a different one every time one of us had to make a hospital visit, an occurrence which was becoming more common then I cared to admit. I quickly moved to the doctor. _

"_Are you Samuel's guardian?" the doctor asked me as I came to a stop before him. Now if that doesn't tell you how young that kid looks I don't know what does. _

"_Yes." I replied, ignoring the harsh look that came from my father, but I wasn't lying. The day I turned 18 my dad and I signed papers declaring that we had shared guardianship over Sammy, I had had the papers prepared since I was 16 and had had to watch my little brother ripped from my arms and dragged out the door by Child Protective Service workers. It hadn't taken me long to talk my dad in to signing the papers, he may have been a control freak, but he knew that there was a good chance that some night he would not come home from a hunt and it would be better for everyone if I was already registered as Sam's guardian. _

_The doctor squinted at the two of us, probably trying to figure out if I was telling the truth, but he quickly just shrugged his shoulders, saying "Follow me please." He lead us down the hall, stopping in front of a patient's room, I peeked around the door and saw my baby brother lying very still on the bed, but even from the door I could hear the heart monitor beeping steadily, which brought temporary relief to my soul. _

_That relief was short lived, disappearing the moment the doctor laid down the diagnosis; hypothermia, 3__rd__ degree frostbite on his hands, 2__nd__ degree on his nose, beginning signs of malnutrition. At the last one I tore my gaze from the young teen in bed and turned accusing eyes on my father, feeling the anger that had previously been overruled by fear, rise back up. My father did not have the decency to look the least bit guilty, but rather continued to studiously give his attention to the doctor. _

_##########################################################_

_I spent 2 nights by Sam's side, watching him shiver, Dad came and went between the hospital and hotel; not that I cared, I haven't even looked at the man since the doctor first gave us Sam's diagnosis. The doctor said my little brother just barely avoided having some of his fingers amputated; gangrene had been avoided by a hair. Sam woke up a time or two, but was never near coherent enough to have an actual conversation with me; but every time he woke up he would look at me and croak the same thing "you came". It tore at my heart every damn time because he always said it as though he was surprised and relieved at the same time, as though he hadn't expected me to show up. I never got the chance to ask him about it, the kid would practically be back asleep, barely managing to get those 2 words out let alone answer my growing amount of inquiries. _

_On the 3__rd__ day the doctor told us that Sam was out of the woods, no longer hypothermic, and thanks to the I.V. malnourishment was no longer impending. The moment my father heard the news he told me he was heading back out to finish the hunt, told me he had to take the Impala because we left his truck out there. "Like hell you are!" Was the most appropriate response I could come up with at the time. _

"_Dean, this is not up for negotiation, I need to go finish the hunt that you ran out on and I need a car to get there." My father tried to reason. _

"_I didn't run out on anything, I ran __**to**__ my little brother and the only reason I had to do that is because you don't know how to fucking take care of the kid! Besides Sam and I are going to need the car, doc says he should be released soon and the moment that happens we are getting in to the Impala and driving south. So if you need to go back there you better take a damn bus!" I seethed, keeping my voice low as to not wake Sammy who was still sleeping in the bed two feet from this conversation. _

"_Don't blame all of this on me, if you didn't coddle the boy so much he would know how to take care of himself, and if you think…" _

"_He's a kid! He isn't supposed to have to take care of himself! He isn't supposed to have to beg to be enrolled in school, he isn't supposed to be afraid to ask his father for money to buy school supplies, or food, or a fucking coat! You're his Father you are supposed to take care of him!" I was getting desperate now, unable to prevent the rise in my voice. _

"_Don't you think I know that?!" John cried out, sounding desperate, no longer on the defense, but more as though he was begging me to understand. " I do the best I can but I don't have time for all that, I have to focus on the hunt, because when I don't people get killed." _

"_I know that Dad." I said, with a tone as understanding as I could make it. "The hunt has to be your priority, I get that, really I do, but Sammy has to be mine. He is still a kid and he needs to come first and since you can't put him first, I do, but you have to stay off my back about it. Stop harping on me for always worrying and thinking about the kid, and stop telling me to focus less on Sammy and more on the hunt, because it's never going to happen. You have to let me put him first. You always told me that taking care of Sam was my job, so for godsake Dad please just let me do my job! I'm begging you!" My voice was cracking by the end, though I tried not to look weak, I knew by the end it was just a desperate plea. Knowing that it didn't matter what my dad said, I would always put Sammy first, he had always been first, but I knew that if I could get my dad to agree that that's how it needed to be and stop riding my ass all the time it would make my job a hell of a lot easier. _

"_You're asking me to just hand over my parental rights? You're asking me to just let you make all of the decisions regarding my youngest son?" My father asked with an incredulous look, the same one I had received early this year when I had told him to sign the papers declaring our shared guardianship over the youngest Winchester. _

"_You already have Dad! I have been making decisions for Sammy since I was 4, you just never paid enough attention to actually notice. Don't make me out to be the bad guy, I wish to God that you could be the father Sammy deserves, the one that would look out for him and make him a priority, but you've proved that that's not possible. I trusted you to take care of him, I trusted you to listen to me when I told you he needed a coat and mitts and some decent food, but I realize that was a mistake, I can't trust you to put him first, I can't trust you to take care of him." I was angry, I knew that, I was angry at how horribly my father had failed my baby brother. I was angry that the hunt was and always would be his number one focus, I was angry that my kid couldn't grow up the way he should be able to. I was angry that my Sammy had wound up in the hospital because I didn't do my job. I was angry with the entire situation! _

"_I love you boys." I was surprised by the quirt statement that left my father's lips, I had been prepared for an angry, bitter response, but not this. _

"_I know you do Dad, and so does Sam. You love us, but we aren't your focus and we won't be as long as that demon is still out there. So find him, and make him pay for everything he did to this family and then re-learn how to be the father you were before all of this crap happened; but until then I will take care of Sammy and he will be my priority." It wasn't a question anymore, I was no longer asking for permission to make the decisions in all things Sam, it was a statement, a declaration that Sammy was mine and he better back the hell off. John understood the order, he nodded his head casting a look in Sam's direction, and then he left the room, no final words or demands, just a quiet exit. I watched him leave, releasing a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, and returned to my rightful seat beside Sam's bed. _

_############################################################_

"_Dean?" I was startled by the sudden word, as quiet as it was. I pulled my head up from where it had been resting at the edge of my little brother's bed. Soft, mostly clear eyes met my gaze as I stood to get a better view of Sam._

"_Hey there Sammy, how ya feeling little brother?" I asked, voice soft as I gently rested my hand on that brown mop of hair. _

"_Good." Was the simple reply, I gave my brother a look that I was hoping clearly displayed my disbelief, prompting honesty. "I'm kinda cold, my hands are stinging, and I'm sort of thirsty." The young teen croaked. At the last comment I immediately reached for the cup of water I had already prepared for this exact moment. _

"_Here you go sleepy head." I said, raising the cup to my baby brother's mouth. Instinctively Sam went to take hold of the cup, stopping only when I gently pushed his arm down, knowing there is no way he would be able to grip the cup with his hands as bandaged as they were; Sam gave me a curious look, but opened his mouth as I tipped the cup nonetheless. _

"_Thanks Dee" Sam said a little more clearly when he was finished sipping at the water. I responded with a simple nod of the head as I returned the glass to its designated place on the side table and sat back in my designated place, a hard, unaccommodating, plastic chair. "What happened?" Sam asked once I had taken my seat._

"_What do you remember?" I questioned, legitimately wondering how much of the entire experience he had been completely coherent for. _

"_Uhh, I was really cold and my hands…" Sam trailed off, clearly not wanting to worry me by describing exactly how much pain the kid had been in. "and I turned on the oven to warm up, but I wasn't getting warmer, so I tried to have a shower…but my hands… and then I called you. That's it." _

"_You don't remember me coming back?" I asked, thinking that he had been pretty awake at that point. _

"_No." Came the whispered reply. _

"_Well I showed up a few hours after you called, you weren't answering the door when I knocked and I was about to break in before I realized it was unlocked." _

"_Ya, I remember trying to lock it when I got home from school…but I couldn't…my hands…" Sam interrupted guiltily. _

"_It's okay Sammy, I wasn't accusing you, just telling ya what happened." I assured, gently squeezing his arm. "Anyways, when I came in you had yourself buried under a mound of blankets, lying in front of the oven door. You were sort of awake, but I guess not very coherent. Once Dad and I saw your hands we brought you straight here." I finished quietly, proud that my voice remained steady the entire time. _

"_Dad?" Sammy asked, questions in his eyes. _

"_Ya, anyways the doc said you were a little hypothermic, you got frostbite on your fingers and nose, and you are one skinny assed kid." I relayed with a smirk, downplaying my little brother's injuries by miles, knowing he need not know how bad off he had really been. _

"_Since when is having a skinny ass considered medically relevant?" Sam asked with a slight smirk. _

"_Since your ass is so skinny that the doc called you malnourished." I replied in all seriousness, no longer making light of such a desperate situation. Sam's eyes went wide, displaying that he was clearly taken aback by what I said. I continued to stare directly at the young teen, demanding answers with my eyes. _

"_Dean…it's no big deal alright?" Sam said quietly, begging me to drop the matter with those ridiculous puppy eyes of his. _

"_No big deal? You're joking right? I mean you better be friggen kidding! Cause last time I checked malnourishment was a pretty big deal and my little brother being malnourished is a fucking huge deal! I mean what the hell Sam? I'm gone for a week and you just decide to not eat anything?" I declared, not trying to scare the kid, but needing him to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Sam's only response was to ashamedly look down at the white sheet covering his chest, allowing those long bangs to fall in front of his face again, those same bangs I had just spent the last 3 days brushing out of his face. I smirked, allowing my momentary frustration to die down before gently grabbing hold Sam's chin, forcing his eyes to meet mine. "I'm not mad at you Sammy, okay? You just scared me is all. You understand?" I asked, encouraged when I received a slight smile and a small nod from the young teen. "Good, now you going to tell me what happened?"_

"_Okay Dean." Came the quiet response, Sammy always warming my heart with his unconditional trust. _

"_Alright good, now how bout you start with why you went all Buddha hunger strike on me?" I questioned with ease in my tone, but intense concentration in my gaze. _

"_Gandhi." _

"_What?"_

"_Ghandi went on a hunger strike Dean, not Buddha." Sam replied, showing the first double dimpled smile I had seen since I left him in that motel over a week ago. _

"_Whatever geek boy." I snorted, waiting patiently for him to begin. _

"_It's not that I intentionally tried not to eat…I just sort of forgot…and then I was too cold to care…" Sam explained, taking every effort to avoid my eyes. _

"_You forgot? Seriously kid when have you ever been able to pull one over on me, especially with a lie as lame as that. Now I have been sitting here for 3 days waiting for the truth, and I will get it, even if I have to sit in this hard-ass chair for 3 more days." I explained calmly, but with a firm tone so that Sam would know that I was not in the mood to take any of his bull shit. _

"_3 days?" My little brother whispered, finally looking up at me with those big eyes. _

"_Ya, Sammy, 3 days, so you going to tell me the truth now or what?" I asked, allowing slight irritation to enter my tone. _

"_I wasn't lying Dean!" Sam defended. I gave him the look I always gave him when I didn't believe him and had had enough, and it worked as well as it always did. _

"_Alright so I didn't forget to eat, but when I got really cold I really wasn't hungry." Sam insisted, reflecting the intensity that lay within my eyes. _

"_Alright little brother I believe you, but what about before you got really cold, why weren't you eating then?" I asked, reassuring Sam that I believed what he was telling me. _

"_Well I ate the first couple days, honest Dean, I had peanut butter sandwiches, but then when the bread was gone all that was left was the soup Dad bought and…well…" Sam trailed off, breaking eye contact again.  
_

" _I know soup isn't your favourite man, but if that's all you got that's what you eat Sam, you can't be so picky all the time…" _

"_Dean," Sam interrupted. "It wasn't that I didn't like it…it was…well Dad…ummm…" _

"_What Sammy? What did Dad do?" I asked, more harshly then I had intended, feeling the anger towards my father make an aggressive return, wondering what else the man could have possibly done to make things worse._

"_He didn't mean to, I think he just forgot…" Sam started again, quieter this time. _

"_He forgot what Sam?" I questioned, attempting to hold on to the little patience I had left. _

"_It was tomato." Sam replied quietly, looking down at his bandaged hands. _

_I looked away, my body rigid, my jaw clenched, doing what I could to not let the fury flowing through my veins take over. Tomato, the one thing on this planet that Sammy was allergic to; how could John possibly forget his youngest son's one allergy? I couldn't understand it, the day we found out that Sam was allergic to tomatoes had been one of the most terrifying days of my life! How in the world could my dad forget about that? And Sam, being the stubborn little bitch that he is, obviously wouldn't let dad know that he'd screwed up, ofcourse why would he? Dad would probably just tell him that he wasn't 'made of money' and to just 'make do'. I growled, my anger no longer staying hidden. _

"_Dean." Sam said, as calm as ever, acting as though he hadn't been completely disregarded and let down by the two people that were supposed to protect him. _

"_Don't 'Dean' me Sam." I said, looking in to my little brother's imploring gaze, "I'm just trying to figure out how the hell Dad forgot that you were allergic to tomatoes!" _

"_It's okay Dean." Sam assured, all puppy eyes and forgiveness. I scowled, rolling my eyes, knowing that this was all about as far as one could get from 'okay', but letting it slide for the sake of the little kid looking at me as though I were some hero, when really all I had done was let him down. _

"_Why didn't you call me sooner Sammy? I mean you went days freezing and…and starving." My voice broke, I gave myself a second to swallow the growing lump in my throat, before continuing. "Why didn't you call me before it got so bad?" I finished quietly. _

"_The same reason I didn't tell dad about the soup, I'm tired of being a burden Dean." _

"_Sammy…"_

"_Just let me finish, you wanted the truth right?! Well that's it, I'm tired of being the weakest link and the disappointment, but mostly I can't stand being a burden, especially to you." I could hardly look at the kid before me, looking up at me under all that hair with those big, pleading, watery eyes. _

"_That's crap Sam." I stated flatly, inwardly smirking at the teen's startled expression. "You are way too smart to be a weak link or a disappointment, and you sure as hell are not a burden!" _

"_You're just saying that." Sam muttered turning his watery gaze downward. _

"_No Sam, I'm not, look at me." I placed a hand gently at the back of his neck and waited for his eyes to return to mine, continuing only when they did. "You are smart, you get straight A's in all your classes even though that should be impossible with how often you switch schools. You're becoming a great hunter and you are already the best at research, why do you think I always have you do mine?" I asked with a grin, getting a small smirk in response. "And most importantly, you are my little brother. Taking care of you is not a burden, Sam, it's my job." _

"_But it shouldn't be." Sam interrupted. I gave him a confused look. "You shouldn't have to take care of my Dean, you're only 18! Taking care of me shouldn't be your job!" Sam insisted, much to my shock and frustration. _

"_I don't think you are understanding me here kid, taking care of you is my job, it's one I that volunteered for, one that I always wanted and still do; it's a job I'm never giving up no matter what dad says or how much you bitch about it, because it is who I am Sammy." I was not a fan of chick-flick moments and I rarely contributed so greatly to them, but this was important and I needed Sam to understand. "So I don't want to every hear you talking about this burden shit ever again? You understand? It's not true and it sure as hell ain't worth you getting yourself killed over." _

_There was silence after my heartfelt lecture, I was too emotionally drained to continue the conversation, and Sam seemed to be (for the first time in his entire life) at a loss of what to say. _

"_Thanks Dee." Was the quiet response that eventually came. I looked at Sam to see a couple tears that seemed to have gotten loose, making their way down his face. Those puppy dog eyes of his were as big and loving as ever and that dimply smile of his had me almost choking on the growing lump that seemed to have taken up residence in my throat. _

_Refusing to give in to the utter girlyness of the moment, and searching desperately for a way to bring some testosterone back into the room, I responded with a simple nod. Avoiding giving a verbal reply, knowing that if I did and my voice cracked, like I knew it was going to, and the tears that I was barely holding back were released, like I knew they wanted to be, I would probably start growing boobs or something. _

"_I wasn't going to get myself killed." I was confused by Sam's sudden statement. _

"_Oh ya? Really? So almost freezing to death was all just part of the plan then eh?!" I stated, instantly being bombarded by images of my baby brother curled up on the floor trying desperately to get warm, damaged hands held against his chest. _

"_No, I bought the best coat I could find with the money Dad left me." I cringed as the mention of Dad and the pitiful amount of cash he expected Sam to survive on. "And then I was going to try and make some money so I could buy some food and maybe some mitts." _

"_Make money doing what?" I asked. _

"_I don't know, I tried to get a job at the grocery store and a couple other places, but they all said I was too young." Sam sighed. _

"_That's because you are too young Sammy!" I confirmed, assuming such a fact had been obvious, but apparently neither Sam nor my father seemed to understand it. _

"_You could always find work." Sam whined. _

"_That's cause I'm older Sam." _

"_No, Dad only thinks you started getting jobs a couple years ago, but I remember you finding jobs when you were my age." I squinted at my little brother, knowing that what he was saying was the truth, but also knowing that he wouldn't understand that I had been desperate to earn money then so I could take better care of him. I thought it best not to share that tidbit of information, knowing how Sam would twist it and find a way to blame himself for me having to find work at a young age, realizing that he would never truly understand that taking care of him was something I had always done willingly, something that had always given me the greatest reward. Sure, I never technically got paid for looking after Sammy, but it gave me more reward than any job I could ever have (something that I would not tell the little runt because it sounded far to girly). The way Sam always looks at me like I'm his hero, the way he loves me with everything he has, and the way he trusts me without question, that's my pay, and it's the only kind I ever want. _

_Not wanting to confess all those feelings and come off like a complete pansy, I stuck to a more manly response. _

"_Well Sam, when I was 14 I looked 14, you on the other hand are 14, but you look like your 10. Maybe if you got a little taller and grew some hair on that baby face of yours, you wouldn't have had a problem finding a job." I declared, smiling when I heard Sam laugh in response. _

"_Sure, whatever you say, Jerk!" _

"_Don't you forget it, Bitch." _

_###########################################################_

_By the afternoon of the 4__th__ day I was loading Sam into the Impala. I signed his release papers the second his doctor gave me the okay, eager to get out of there, knowing that CPS workers were probably on their way, no doubt they would be alerted when a minor with signs of malnutrition was admitted into the hospital, and knowing how they loved to appear right on release day. I had read up on all the information I needed to understand how to treat the leftover frostbite. I knew how to change the bandages on Sam's hands, and that he would be more prone to the cold whether now, especially his hands. I knew that now his hands could acquire frostbite more easily due to the damage that had been done and that he would have to take extra precaution to keep them warm. I knew that the kid needed to gain some weight back, something I had not needed the doctor to tell me, because the moment I watched him trying to hold up the pants that had fit him a couple weeks ago I knew that he had lost too much of the little fat he had to begin with. _

_I had Sammy bundled up in the passenger seat, the stubborn brat had refused to lie down in the back, insisting he belonged upfront. The first thing we had done when we left the hospital was purchase a brand new, fleece-lined coat and good quality thermal gloves (even though I had every intention of never allowing Sammy out in the cold again, I figured we should have them just in case). Sam had tried to argue his way out of them, seeing the price tag and insisting they were unnecessary, but I had put my foot down. _

_Once we got back into the Impala and Sam was under enough layers to satisfy my concern, I pointed my baby south and just started driving, knowing I wouldn't be stopping until I hit warmth. Sam asked at one point where Dad was, I said he had gone to finish the hunt and that he would text me when he was done and come meet up with us when he could, which was all true. Sam seemed content with the answer and promptly fell asleep, head resting against my shoulder instead of the window where he would usually have it. I smiled, turned my music on quiet, and didn't stop driving until I hit Florida_

_#######################################################_

"Dean." I was pulled from my trip down memory lane at the sound of Sam's voice, glancing to my right I saw him staring at me, his hands clasped in his lap and I could tell that he was making a conscious effort not to rub them together.

"What Sam?" I asked, noticing my jaw was sore from how hard I had been clenching it.

"It wasn't your fault." He says, all understanding and caring and chick-flicky.

"What wasn't my fault?" I ask, feigning ignorance, thinking there is no way my little brother can read me **that** well.

"You don't think I know what you're thinking about? You're keyed up about as tight as you can get, you've been grinding your teeth for the past hour and you keep looking over at my hands every 5 minutes." Okay, so maybe my baby brother does know me that well. "So, I'll say it again, it wasn't your fault Dean."

"No, no it wasn't, it was Dads." I ground out, knowing that this is a conversation I won't be able to escape from. It's true, I do blame my dad for that entire situation, I also blame myself for not doing more, but Sammy doesn't need to know that.

Shockingly enough, I was met with silence. I glanced over to my right to meet Sam's wide eyes staring back at me.

"What's your problem?" I asked.

"It's just…you usually find a way to blame yourself for…pretty much everything, and you hardly ever blame Dad for anything." Sam explained, conveying complete curiosity with both his tone and expression.

"I only blame myself for things that are actually my fault Sam, you're the one with the guilt complex. And just because I don't fight with dad all the time, doesn't mean that I don't see when he screws up."

"Ya, maybe, but even when he does screw up, you rarely hold a grudge, that's more my style." Sam replies, with a small smirk.

I snorted, "Yes, it sure is." I left it there, hoping that Sam wouldn't continue to pry, but by the way he proceeded to stare intently at me during the small break of silence I knew I wasn't going to get off that easy.

"So why haven't you let it go?" Sam asked, quietly, but insistent.

"Because Sammy, some things just aren't forgivable alright?! And nearly getting you killed? That's one of those things, I can't let that go, I won't forgive someone who almost costs you your life, no matter who they are."

"Even Dad?" Sam questions quietly.

"Especially Dad." I seethe, taking a calming breath before continuing. "I don't hate him Sam, and I'm not as angry with him as you seem to be, but I won't forgive him, not for that." I say, taking a quick look at Sam's hands. After a couple seconds of watching them shake from cold as the kid tries to hide them in his sleeves, I have the heat in my baby blasting and all the vents aiming directly at my little brother. As I return my gaze to the windshield I watch Sam out of the corner of my eye, noticing how he shyly glances my way before slowly pulling his hands from his sleeves and placing them directly in front of the vents, releasing a small sigh as he does.

That's all it takes for the anger that I had had directed at my father to turn instantly to myself. How could I just forget? I mean I know it had been a few years since we hunted together, Sam being at Stanford and all, but how the hell could I just forget? Here we are, heading to Minnesota in December, Sam's hands are only going to get colder the farther north I go. I mean what kind of brother am I? First I screw up so much that the kid gets frostbite, and next I completely forget about it, how easy it is for him to become cold, how his hands start shaking from November to March if he is anywhere remotely north in the country. No wonder the kid had chosen to go to school in California.

"You're doing it again." Sam says, his hands still resting in front of the vents.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, already thinking I know the answer I'm about to receive.

"I didn't want to…" Sam begins.

"I swear to god if you say the word 'burden' I will kick your ass." I growled.

"Then what do you want me to say Dean?" Sam sighed in resignation.

"How many times are we going to have to go through this Sam?!" I was frustrated now, running out of ways to make my little brother understand that taking care of him was the most important thing I did in life and was something I wanted and needed to do, it's who I am.

"I'm sorry Sammy." I said, surprising both of us with the quiet phrase.

"What? Dean I though you said you didn't…"

"Not about that." Though, I was sorry about that. I was sorry I hadn't insisted that I be the one to stay behind to get Sam enrolled in school and settled. I was sorry I hadn't trusted my instincts, I was sorry I had trusted my father to put Sam first, I was sorry that I had put keeping the peace ahead of Sam, all mistakes I would never make again, not ever.

"I'm sorry that I forgot, you shouldn't have to remind me, I know that makes you feel like a burden, even when you sure as hell aren't."

"Dean, come on man, it's alright."

"No, no it's not, I should have remembered, I shouldn't have planned a hunt up north at this time of year."

"No man, seriously, we can't take hunts just because I get a little cold."

"You don't get a 'little cold' dude, you could very easily get frostbite."

"I know I know, I'm prone to frostbite and easily hypothermic. That's why you always tried to talk Dad into hunts to the south during the winter and the few times you couldn't you would tell him to go on his own, or you insisted on buying me the warmest, most expensive coat and gloves you could possibly find." Sam says, looking at me with a smile, the love oozing out of those brown eyes forcing me to look away before I got sucked in. "And I appreciate that, I really do Dean. I could never thank you enough for having my back, and I still can't believe that Dad wouldn't really fight you when you insisted I had a new coat and gloves every winter and wouldn't let me train if it was too cold out." Sam finishes with complete and utter admiration in his voice.

"Ya well, Dad and I had an understanding." No, I don't think I would ever tell Sam about the conversation Dad and I had by his hospital bed, the conversation where I practically declared that Sammy was mine and John Winchester was not to be trusted with my baby brother.

"Well Thanks, for always being there for me." Sam said, still looking my direction.

"Oh god, are we going to have to hug now or something?" I whined rolling my eyes and then glanced at Sam, only to see his hands clenched and still shaking. "Geez kid, don't you have some gloves?" I asked, turning the heat up another notch, even though I was practically starting to bake.

"No." Came the simple response.

"Sam you know you always need to have a pair of gloves around! What about the ones I got you before…" I trailed off not knowing how to word that. Before what? Before you went to school, before you left me, before my heart was torn from my body?

"Don't hav'em." Sam replied quietly.

"Really? What'd you stick them through the shredder or something? Those were some hard-core gloves Sam." I said, shocked that my little brother, who has always taken ridiculously good care of his possessions, had managed to wreck a pair of very good quality mitts.

"Ya, but they weren't exactly fire proof Dean." I almost choked at the whispered reply, the fire, god how could I forget that all of his things went up in flames just a few months ago. Could I not remember anything important anymore?!

"Guess we'll have to buy you another pair then won't we Jack Frost." I joked, wanting to bring some lightness into this conversation.

"Jack Frost? Really Dean?" Sam laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Why were you surprised when I came?" I cursed at myself, why did I keep bringing up the past, especially when this conversation was just starting to move out of chick-flick central.

"At the apartment? Well you didn't call…"

"No, back when you were 14, at the hospital. Every time you woke up you would look at me and say 'you came' like you were surprised or something." I knew I probably just should have dropped it, but I had to know. Had I let my little brother down so greatly that he didn't trust me to be there when he needed me?

"I don't really remember much about the first few days I was at the hospital, but I remember before, when I was trying to get warm, before I called you, that I wasn't sure if Dad would let you come get me." Sam said, looking over at me nervously.

"What in the word would make you think that Dad could stop me from getting to you?" I asked in disbelief, did I really come off as the 'good little soldier' that strongly?

"I don't know Dean, it was a long time ago okay?" Sam said defensively, which told me that he was lying right through his teeth.

"You do know, so tell me."

"Alright, but you have to promise not to get pissed alright?" Sam relented.

"I can't do that Sam." I said, refusing to lie to my little brother, knowing that he would tell me the truth either way.

"God, there's no compromising with you is there."

"No there isn't bitch so just spit it out."

"It's not even that big of a deal."

"Why don't you let me decide that."

"Fine, it was just after you left the motel I asked Dad why he was staying instead of you, he said that you wanted me to learn to do things on my own, and that I couldn't depend on you for everything." There was a pause, I knew that Sam wasn't finished yet and I was already back to white-knuckling the steering wheel.

"What else did Dad say Sam." I bit out.

"He..uh… he said that you had to focus more on the hunt, that if you kept focussing on me you would end up getting yourself killed…so I had to man-up and pull my weight…or something like that." Sam finished off, nervously biting his lip and giving me a side-long glance.

I was unable to respond, focussing instead on maintaining some reasonable level of calm as I continued to clench every muscle in my body.

"I knew you didn't think that Dean." Sam continued, "I knew it was just Dad's way of trying to get me to grow-up and fend for myself, but it hurt, you know? The way he said it…it just … it made me feel like I wasn't good enough…you know?" Sam said quietly, turning away from me to direct his gaze out the side window.

I couldn't believe my own father could say that to Sam, no wonder the kid always felt like a burden. I couldn't wait for us to find dad, so that I could kick his ass from here to Mexico for making my baby brother feel so worthless.

"That's why it took me so long to call you I guess, I didn't want to admit defeat; I wanted to prove to Dad that I could do it, that I could take care of myself." There was a pause before Sam let out a bitter laugh. "Look how well that turned out."

"Don't, don't you do that Sam. There was nothing you could have done to make that situation any better, Dad screwed you over. You survived a hell of a lot longer than any other kid your age could have, left in a shitty motel, with crappy clothes, a pathetic twenty dollars, and a bunch of food you couldn't even eat." I was vibrating with anger and bitterness, which was made obvious by both my body language and tone of voice.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the angsty bitter one, remember?" Sam asked with a smirk, no doubt attempting to calm me down.

"Don't I know it." I joked, "So dad pulled a dick move and you didn't want to call so that you could prove you were capable…or whatever, but none of that explains why you were surprised I made an appearance, or why you thought Dad could keep me from coming."

"I knew you hated to argue with him Dean, hell you hated it when I argued with him. I knew that you looked up to him and trusted him, the same way I did with you, and I was worried that if he gave you a direct order you would have a hard time not following it."

"You're right, I hated arguing, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it Sam. And direct order or not, there was nothing Dad could have done to keep me from coming when you called." I explained.

"I know that now." Sam admitted.

"Good, cause not even the great John Winchester can't keep me from you, Bitch." I said, smacking my little brother on the leg and flashing him a signature Dean Winchester smile.

"Thanks for that…Jerk." Sam said, his voice dripping with sincerity. I smiled, giving Sammy's leg a quick squeeze before returning my hand to the wheel.

I was still angry at my father and still feeling as guilty as hell, but I let those emotions die down for the time being, because right now things were good. Right now I was driving my baby to the closest clothing store, where I was going to buy him warmest most expense coat and gloves I could possibly find. Right now my baby brother was safe and sitting right next to me, right where he belonged, right where he had always belonged.


End file.
